


Debt

by drippingwithsin



Category: American Horror Story: Coven, The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 02:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11370672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drippingwithsin/pseuds/drippingwithsin
Summary: A visit from an old 'friend' unravels a startling truth.





	Debt

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been collecting dust in my archives since Coven. Not even joking. May or may not continue. 
> 
> (If you haven't watched AHS: Coven you're going to be lost as a goose.)

Monday; a new beginning to a new week. The day, depending on the situations(or Miranda’s moods) was either anticipated or dreaded. Mostly the latter, nevertheless, it never failed to come like an obnoxious relative to a reunion. For the employees working within Elias & Clarke building, that’s when the metaphor grin and bear it came into play for they knew better than to slack up or show disdain least one find themselves living on the streets, rummaging through garbage cans for the rest of their lives.

 

Yes, there was no whining in Miranda Priestly's realm, even the neanderthals employed at Auto Universe knew that.

 

That’s why Miranda’s first assistant, Emily nearly overdosed on caffeine not just on Mondays but every single day work day. The brit would rather perish than have Miranda catching her yawning or blinking like some sort of lethargic owl. So slumped slightly at her desk with a rapidly cooling cup of coffee perched near a stack of files she typed furiously hitting the keys to the rhythmic chanting of _‘I love my job’_ within her head.

 

Vibrant Alice blue eyes glanced towards the cup, and Emily pondered on whether or not to finish off the contents because as of right now she feels very much like that manic squirrel on the animated movie Over the Hedge.

 

Like if she were to take one more sip time itself would cease which truth be told she probably wouldn’t mind. One needed all the time in the blood world when working for Miranda Priestly.

 

Click.

 

Click.

 

Click.

 

Click.

 

Speak of the devil and all that, she heard the distinctive sound of heels upon the linoleum drawing nearer and nearer, but something was off. Something that the brit couldn’t quite put her finger on whereas Miranda’s footsteps was like a machine gun firing and Andrea’s was more like a bull in a china shop these were smooth, purposeful, yet hard like a creeping predator stalking its unsuspecting prey.

 

What the bloody hell?

 

She peeked over the monitor and froze completely. A pair of amber orbs was staring downward at her, their irises so light that one might mistake them for being gold.

 

Or a wolf's.  

 

Lush green painted eyelids blinked, trying to gain some ground. The woman was definitely older than her by quite a few years, but like Miranda her look was timeless. Her hair barely brushing the tops of her shoulders was champagne in color and had the texture of fine silk, contrasted beautifully with the charcoal black knee-length dress covering a surprisingly taut feminine body. The face, though it showed her age was regal and appeared to be carved out of stone.

 

All and in all, she was a classic beauty.

 

A sensual Goddess, but there is something else there. Something that caused gooseflesh to break out across Emily’s flesh and her heart rate to pick up.

 

_Danger_

 

The woman exuded it in waves.  

 

Emily shuddered underneath the gaze and had to quarrel ruthlessly with the urge to flee. She opened and closed her mouth a few times unknowingly doing a dead-on impression of a dying fish then finally forced the words out.

 

“May I,” Emily cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes in feigned annoyance. “May I help you?”

 

“Miranda Priestly. Where is she?”  And oh Emily had received her fair share of looks over the years. After all, she worked for La Priestly herself; a woman whose gaze was well were known for cutting people in two and freezing others in place with just a single glance, but this woman’s eyes were nothing like that. These, despite their coloring, were blank. Void of all life.

 

Dead, they were dead. Like the woman had no soul.

 

 _Shite._ Emily leaned as far away as she could, contemplating seriously on whether or not to ring security even going so far as to pick up the phone but something halted her actions. What if Miranda actually wanted to talk to this woman? She swore once again at the unpredictability of her boss.

 

 _“Well?”_ It was drawn out in a tone that screamed that the woman was losing her patience.

 

So Emma did what she normally does when dealing with an alpha female. She panicked and gave in. “She’s in her office.”

 

The woman stared at her a heartbeat longer before much to the redhead’s horror turns towards Miranda’s office. “Wait! You can’t go in there!” She practically screeched, jolting from the desk chair and ran to catch the woman.

 

When Emily reached her, however, the blonde turned around. “You can’t-”

 

“You made a mistake I had an appointment.”

 

Blue eyes glaze over for a split second only to clear just as quickly. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, go right ahead.” Emily apologized before turning and scurrying back to her desk.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Drop the crimson background there; replace it with turquoise.” Miranda pointed out to Nigel whom at the moment is hovering over her shoulder and staring downward at that month’s mock-up issue of Runway making mental notes of every little correction she made.

 

“What font do you want for the header?” He questioned, keeping his eyes glued to the magazine.

 

“Something simple yet elegant none of that horrible loopy lettering that _Vogue_ uses. I swear, one would think that Anna Wintour has nineteenth-century playwrights on staff.”  She sniffed causing him to chuckle.

 

"I'll be sure to ask her that at the next showing."

 

A huff and she turned the page. Miranda opened her mouth to announce a mile long list of errors when something made her pause. There was an unpleasant shift in her office. A thickening and consuming feeling like being outside on a humid midsummer night. What on ear- 

 

“Evening,”  A feminine voice purred in a whiskey-laced tone with a southern twang that was anything but the stereotypical sweet ‘hey y’all’ one would think of when the lower states came to mind. And it was familiar, all too frighteningly familiar.

 

Miranda’s head snapped upward and her sapphire eyes widen.  “Fiona?”

 

Thin pink lips curled into a malevolent smile. “Been a long time, Miriam.”  She chuckled, glancing over at Nigel. “Leave.”

 

A tingling in the air and he left without a word.

 

“Wha-” Miranda uncharacteristically cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?” She fiddled with her necklace in a nervous habit that was supposed to be broken years ago.

 

“Jesus H. Christ, can’t a woman visit an old friend without getting all these questions?”  Fiona crossed her arms, feigning hurt.

 

“Leave now before I call security.” Miranda threatened her voice cool and calm, but inwardly it was an altogether different story. Terror was surging through her like a hurricane-fueled tide. Miranda knew this woman knew her all too well. Had seen the aftermath of her destruction and been in its path.

 

The woman merely hummed at the warning seemingly not bothered at all by it, but within the atmosphere, something crackled unpleasantly causing gooseflesh to prickle along Miranda’s skin. The door behind Fiona clicked shut on its own.

 

No, oh, God.

 

Fiona fished out a pack of Marlboros from between her breasts, slid one out, and brought it puckered lips where she waved her hand in front of it.

 

The tobacco lit instantly.

 

“Oh, I don’t think you _will_.”  She drawled out, languidly flicking her wrist. The office phone flew across the room and slammed into the nearest wall, shattering into a million pieces. 

 

Miranda startled at the sound and prayed to whatever deity was above that somebody heard.

 

No such luck.

 

Fiona began to move forward with all the grace of a panther stalking its prey only to come to a halt directly in front of Miranda with only a measly ten year old glass top desk separating the two. “It took me longer than what I thought to find you, Miriam-or should I call you _Miranda_ now?” She made a show of glancing at other woman’s hair. “Shame, you were so much prettier as a blonde.”

 

“Fiona, please leave.” Miranda uncharacteristically begged.

 

“You owe me.” The blonde stated plainly.

 

How dare she? How dare this dried up old _witch_ come find her after all these years and demand all that Miranda has fought for. Sapphires hardened into diamonds. “I owe you nothing.”

 

“You owe me everything; this company, money, your life, every single goddamned thing you have is mine. And you’re going to give it to me.”

 

Miranda swallowed thickly and with a herculean effort managed to steel herself. “And if I don’t?”

 

Amber irises glint with malicious intent. “Your little girls are darling, Miriam. How old are they? Ten? Eleven? Maybe, I should pay them a visit and find out.”

 

The threat was thinly veiled and all too real.

 

Miranda’s face contorted in rage. “Don’t you dare touch my girls or I swear I’ll-“

 

A full on laugh interrupted her. “You’ll do what? Throw me out? Call cops. Oh, I know...you’ll blacklist me.” Fiona clutched at her chest and let her mouth drop open in mock fright. Only to change a moment later back to predatory. “You can’t do a goddamn thing and you know it so just sit _La Priestly_ aside give me what I came for.”

 

Miranda sit there for a second, glaring. She knew the other woman was right. There wasn’t anything she could do. Professionally, she can bring a man to his knees, but this situation her hands were tied. Miranda closed her eyes and swallowed in defeat. “What do you want?”

 

Fiona smiled in triumph, but just her lips opened to respond the door swung open causing the duo’s heads to whip around.

 

“Miranda, I’m so sorry I’m late but the line at Starbucks was around the block and...” Andrea rambled on, stumbling in the room with both hands with a cups of scalding hot coffee.

 

“Andy?” Fiona breathed.

 

Miranda snapped her gaze away from Andrea over to the blonde and was taken aback by just how soft Fiona’s face was. Gone were the flashing orbs and predatory smiles now she looked did Miranda dare think it; human.

 

At the sound of Fiona’s voice, Andrea’s reaction was instantaneous. The young woman froze, chocolate eyes widening into epic proportions and mouth falls agape. She looked as though she'd seen a ghost. The Starbucks tray slipped from her grasp and fell precariously to the floor where it sent scalding hot coffee splattering in various directions across the carpeting.

 

But neither woman acknowledged it; for the doeling and the wolf had finally locked eyes.

 

Andrea muttered something underneath her breath and Miranda furrowed her eyebrows fully thinking she must have heard wrong.

 

“Mother?”  Andrea repeated and there was no mistaking what was said this time.

 

And with that one word, Miranda felt her world crashing down around her.

 


End file.
